


ask the meaningless to reply

by whytho



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, also: save me, lmao save me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whytho/pseuds/whytho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Law students, in Blue's professional opinion, are irritating. Richard Campbell Gansey III is just as irritating, really. </p><p>(or: Blue and Gansey fake date, I don't know how to write, and Orla and Helen bond in the background.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	ask the meaningless to reply

**Author's Note:**

> a concept: me, not being ridiculous.

Blue has, on occasion, taken some odd shifts. Her Tuesday three o’clock shift, while detestable, is not odd. It comes with irritating law students, a few preppy kids, and an alarming amount of old ladies and yappy dogs, but it is not _odd_. 

Richard Campbell Gansey III is, by definition, odd. 

Blue first met him on another one of her Tuesday shifts, right after Ronan had first started working there. When Gansey first walked through the door, he seemed like another one of the law students to her, albeit charisma one. Then he’d broken into a bright, charming smile at the sight of Ronan, bounded up to the counter, and effectively ruined Blue’s life. 

“Sir,” Blue begun, grinding her teeth. (Politeness, as usual, was not her forte, and law students irritated the hell out of her.) “What would you like today?”

“One caramelized macchiato with a side of espresso,” he said brightly, leaning against the counter. “And a hello for my friend in the back.”

“Leave me the hell alone, dick,” Ronan shouted from behind the coffee machine. “And give the girl an actual order.” Blue, in that moment, had almost like Ronan. 

“It’s _Richard_ ,” Gansey reminded Ronan, smile frozen into place, and Blue started to feel like her day would not turn out well. Turning back to Blue, his grin flowing into something more natural, Gansey said, “And actually, I would like a frappuccino. Large. Chocolate.” 

Blue sighed, wrote down his order, and glared at the giggling Noah behind the counter. 

Later, on her break on Thursday, she ranted at Noah. “A frappucino? Who actually buys those? I mean, apart from goddamn Tad Carthurres, but let’s face it, he’s the poster boy of frappucino drinkers.” Noah laughed, and she froze. “Where was I going with this?”

“You were telling me about Richard Campbell Gansey III’s frappuccino habits,” Noah reminded her, soft and teasing. They were in the break room in the back of the shoop, and Noah had stretched himself across the couch like a cat desperate to find sunlight. 

Blue pursed her lips at him. “Noah, this is no laughing matter. You see the Aglionby students every day, so you’re now immune to their assholeness, but I don’t go to your school. I’m not being infected with this- this-” She flapped her hand, feeling inarticulate. Noah patted her on the shoulder. 

“This assholeness?” he joked. Blue tried to glare at him, but failed and flopped back against his shoulder. 

“They’re gonna grow up and be _politicians_ ,” she muttered, shoving her face into the fabric of his polo. It was his Aglionby top, and she knew he only wore it to make her agitated about Fair Trade fabrics, but right now it smelled like coffee beans and Ronan’s bird and Blue couldn’t care less.

“Ronan’s not,” he reminded her. “I’m not.” Then he too sighed and leaned back against the couch. They listened to the sound of Chainsaw, waiting for Ronan in the back, picking fights with some sparrows. Noah’s sigh, compared to Blue’s was breathy and indistinct, but still far too dramatic. Maura said Blue’s dramatics were amplified by Noah’s, and vice versa, so the two of them were caught in an endless cycle of theatrics. Blue rather agreed. 

Ronan banged through the door, startling them. “Are you two ready to start working again? Because Chainsaw needs to be fed and Cialina’s shift is almost over.” He was picking at his scabs, Blue noticed, and looked like he needed to get out. 

“Yeah.” She untangled her legs from Noah’s, then hooked a thumb at the cupboard in the back. “Get some band-aids; those sores cannot be hygienic.”

Ronan made a noise in the back of his throat; whether it was one of dissatisfaction or agreement, Blue didn’t know. She ignored and ambled her way back to the front counter, Noah at her heels.

They took orders and mixed drinks for about half an hour before Ronan rejoined them. That time, Blue thought, was some of her favorite. Thursday, close to Friday but not quite part of the weekend, was the day students came out to town and hung around coffee shops instead of bars. Thursday were the days with big tippers, high school boys with first dates they needed to impress with black coffee and expensive orders. Thursdays were the days management let Noah chose the station- he always picked one with soft music, one that felt like lemonade on hot summer nights, one Blue could never really find any other night. 

Thursday was the day Blue could dance around the machines, a tray of drinks in hand, not dropping a single one. Her hair would blow through her face and when she passed Ronan, the sweet, heavy scent of his cologne would linger for a few seconds, his forests and greenery and machine oil and dust still hanging, faded, in Blue’s air for a minute after that. Sneakers squeaked against the floor, and everything, _everything_ , felt like it was staying on air. 

Thursdays, Blue knew, were good days. 

Even when Gansey walked through the door, Blue would not let it ruin her Thursday. He was holding a pile of books, loose papers fluttering left and right, and Blue hardly recognized him as the boy from Tuesday until he greeted Ronan. 

“Ah, Lynch,” he said. Blue, at that point, was paying more attention to the dusty-haired boy next to him, but snapped back to attention when he called Ronan by last name. 

“Gansey,” Ronan replied, the picture of dignity, even when he had scabs from a raven on his knuckles and other people’s smoke on his clothes. 

Noah made a face halfway between a smirk and a smile- his Aglionby face. Blue didn’t like it. “Boys,” he said. “Orders?” 

Gansey looked back at him, mind caught up in something else. In that moment, Blue felt like he was looking right through Noah, trying to find something else. The he flashed back to the present and Blue blinked. “Yes,” Gansey said aimlessly, dropping a twenty on the counter. “I will have- Adam can order for me. Adam?” He retreated to the table in the corner, the one by the window. 

The boy still at the counter- Adam- sighed. “Ronan, could you just get what he normally takes? I’ll have a- uh, a biscotti. Just one.” Ronan nodded and went to make the drink. 

Noah bumped his hip against Blue’s. “Think it’s a first date?” he asked softly, and Blue smiled at him. (It was Noah’s thing- to ask Blue what she thought she knew about the Aglionby boys. She was right most of time; growing up with Maura Sargent as a mother gave Blue the innate ability to figure out people.)

“Nah,” she replied. “They’ve been friends for a while, I think. And Richard Campbell Gansey III-” she wiggled her eyebrows at Noah, lips curled in an almost smile- “is definitely straight.”

Noah raised his eyebrows back at her. “Really? And what of Adam?”

Blue leaned her head against his, closing her eyes. “I do not make judgements of boys with cheekbones that sharp.”

“Why?” Noah asked, the edges of his throat moving against Blue’s chin. 

She opened her eyes and smiled, knowing he could feel the movement of her cheek against his skin. “Because if we got into a fistfight over it they could probably cut my hand.” 

Noah laughed, the sound loud and happy in the quiet of the shop. “Hasn’t Ronan taught you anything? You don’t punch someone in the face; you’ll break your hand.”

“Nope,” Blue replied. “My hand is far too muscular for that.” Noah laughed again. 

Ronan appeared from behind the latte machine, tray in hand. “Midget, you’re the waitress here; can you give them their orders?” 

Blue spun to face Ronan, feeling her skirt lift up from her thighs and settle back into place. An empowering feeling, Blue thought. “I’m not a waitress _here_ ,” she told him, taking the tray from his hands. 

Ronan scoffed, and Noah poked him in the back. “Don’t insult anyone,” he reminded, then went to take another order. Blue wasn’t sure which one of them he was talking to, and it looked like Ronan didn’t either. 

The table in the corner, Blue realized, was the one with the charger. She wondered if Gansey knew, or if it was just coincidence. Neither of the boys at the table seemed to care; their heads were bent over a stack of files and papers. 

“No, see-” Gansey was saying. He broke off when Blue approached the table, pulling out an effortless smile. “Ah, lovely, our order. Thank you, miss. Adam, I presume this is your biscotti? Good.” He took a sip of his coffee and shuddered, wrinkling his face up. “Ach, disgusting. I don’t know why I order my coffee black.”

Adam, the other boy, sighed noiselessly at him. Turning back to Blue, he offered up a smile. “Sorry. He’s a bit- well, he can get cranky on Thursdays.”

Blue smiled back, placing his biscotti on the table. Gansey’s phone buzzed with a call, and he jumped up from the table. “Sorry, Adam, I need to take this. Actually, can you ask this- the workers here if they know the boiling point of garlic powder? I left my laptop at home and Ronan cooks.” 

Sighing, Adam dropped his face in one hand and flopped the other at Gansey. “Yes, yes, go take your call.” 

Gansey grinned, and Blue thought in that second the world seemed electric and bright and burning. “Good. And get yourself a coffee while you’re at it; we need to last until at least three o’clock.” He dropped another twenty on the table and ran out the door. 

Again, Adam smiled at Blue, this time looking a little softer. “Sorry, can you get me a coffee? Preferably one cut with something sugary.” He dug a crumpled five out of his pocket, and the twenty on the table felt like something Blue shouldn’t look at. 

Blue didn’t mean to smile at him, but her lips moved and her eyes crinkled nonetheless. “As long as you’re fine with Ronan making it.” 

Adam laughed. “Well, I don’t think he’ll poison me, but make sure he doesn’t spit into the cup, alright?”

Blue would have nodded and made her way back to the counter if not for Gansey running back through the door. “Adam,” he gasped. “Ronan!” 

Poking his head out from behind a machine, Ronan raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Next Saturday,” Gansey said, frantic. “You’re free, right?”

“Actually, I need to-” Adam interjected, but Gansey plunged on. 

“My mother,” he started, straightening his back, “Is having a dinner for Helen’s engagement.” 

For a few seconds, there was silence, until Ronan made a face Blue wouldn’t have thought possible. “Oh,” he said, looking disgusted. 

“Please, Ronan, you need to come,” Gansey said. “Declan’ll be there.” Adam, still seated behind Gansey, made a face almost identical to Ronan’s. “And there’ll be caterers,” Gansey added. 

After much deliberation, Ronan muttered, “Whatever,” and Adam nodded. “But what’s your problem with it?” Ronan asked, eyes narrowed. 

Gansey paused for a few seconds, then peered off into the corner. To Blue, it looked like he didn’t want to meet Ronan’s eyes. “Well,” Gansey started. The door clanged open, a laughing couple entered the shop, and Noah peeled off to get their drinks. “It appears as though my parents were under the impression I’d still have a girlfriend right now.”

Ronan cackled. “They want you to bring a date?”

“...Yes.”

“Maybe you need to tell them she dumped you,” Adam said. 

Gansey slumped down across from him. “No, I need someone to actually come with me. Otherwise they’ll think I’ll be hopelessly single for the rest of eternity.”

“But you are going to be hopelessly single for the rest of eternity,” Ronan said from across the room, polishing a glass. 

“Yes, but they don’t need to know that, now do they, Lynch?”

Adam sighed. “Look, all you need to do is get a girl to go on a fancy date with you. It shouldn’t be to hard.” Gansey didn’t pout, not quite, but Blue thought him came awfully close. “One of the other law students would be happy to help, wouldn’t they?” Adam pressed. 

“No, law students are too abrasive,” Gansey said, dropping his head in his arms. Blue felt a laugh rise in the back of her throat but pressed it down. In her experience, Gansey was the most abrasive law student she’d ever met. 

“Why don’t you just ask Maggot?” Ronan suggested, jiggling a cocktail shaker. 

“Roman, don't call people Maggot,” Gansey reminded him automatically. Then his words sunk in, and Gansey’s eyes widened. 

“No,” Blue warned. “Not in a million years.” 

“C’mon, shorty,” Ronan coaxed, wiping down the table. “You'll get free food.” 

“No!” Blue said, walking behind the front counter. She slammed the tray down and glared at Ronan; he stared back. 

“I could pay you,” Gansey offered suddenly, watching them. He was fiddling with his stacks of papers, but his eyes remained resolutely on Blue. Adam winced. 

Blue gaped. “I am not going to your fancy rich political dinner because you offer me money, you absolute prick.” 

Silence filled the shop. It was a good thing no customers decided to venture in, because most would have been shocked by the tension. Blue, her anger loud and palpable, fiddled with the machinery in an attempt to make Adam’s coffee. Noah poked his head out of the back room, then winced and apparently decided to stay away. 

Blue slammed the drink down in the counter next to Ronan. “You can take pretty boy his coffee,” she said. Ronan, for once, couldn't meet her eyes. “Don't spit in it.” 

Ronan took Adam his coffee; Blue returned to the back room. Lying on the couch was Noah, reading a comic book. He raised his eyes when Blue slunk into the room and said nothing when she dropped herself on him. 

“Goddamn Aglionby boys,” she muttered into his chest. 

“How do you feel about the girls, though?” Noah asked, completely serious. With his free hand he rubbed Blue’s head consolingly, but she was sure he was still reading his comic book. 

“The girls are fine,” she replied, turning her head so she could read the comic too. This one looked different from Noah’s regular- it had far more college students than superheros in it. Blue decided she rather preferred it. 

“What’s wrong with the boys, then?” Noah asked, twisting his head a little so he could look at her. “I’m an Aglionby boy, too.”

“You’re different,” Blue said. “You have no intention of dating anyone.”

Noah hummed, deep in his chest, and Blue could feel it through the soft material of his polo. “Yes, but I don’t think that’s Gansey’s intention either.”

Blue huffed. “Not according to my last conversation with him.”

“From what I could hear, Gansey just needed a date to a fancy dinner reception,” Noah told her, turning back to his comic book. “And besides, your rule is to not date Aglionby kids- you have nothing against _going_ on a date with them.”

Blue said nothing. Outside the break room door she could hear Ronan, banging around pots and pans and wooden spoons he had gotten from who knows where, and the quiet mumble of the shop. The rain had worsened, going from light and misting to heavy, and Blue ached to sit in the shop for a bit, watching the downpour from the cozy inside. 

Noah made another noise in his chest, this one probably at his book, and said, “I’m going to go help Ronan. You coming?”

Blue allowed herself to bury her face in his chest for one second, two, then- “Yeah. Yeah, I’m getting up.”

\-----

The next time she saw Richard Campbell Gansey III, it was twelve o’clock in the morning and Blue had thirty minutes left on her shift. 

It was her one at the bookstore, the one usually filled with insomniacs and professors, and students that hadn’t finished tomorrow’s essays. Blue found it was one of her easiest jobs. Her manager seemed to agree, but Eric spent most of his time asleep. When Gansey slammed his way into the bookstore, Eric was already dead on his feet and Blue had some time to kill. 

Gansey, of course, ruined that when he banged open the door. 

“Hello, how can I- oh.” 

Gansey blinked at her, eyes wide. “You’re- ah. Ah.” He was silent for a few seconds, before- “I don’t believe I caught your name.” Blue stared at him, then wordlessly pointed to her nametag. Gansey blinked again and rubbed his face, looking almost awkward. He coughed. “Anyway, I, uh, don’t suppose you have any books on English history?”

Blue inhaled. “Check the history section. Or maybe world studies.” She hesitated, then, lips pressed together, offered, “Do you need any help?”

Gansey’s eyes widened even further. Self-conscious, he adjusted his glasses- Blue hadn’t even realized he was wearing them. “I’ll be alright, thank you.”

Blue watched as he made his way to the history section, with the sort of confidence Blue both hated and envied. Even in the store she worked it, she wasn’t that assured around books. That was for people like Persephone, who made untidy stacks of novels look intentional, like they had a reason. That was for Noah, who read poetry to Blue on her breaks without even asking if she wanted it. That was for Gansey, who looked like a scholar in glasses. Blue wasn’t sure what to think about those. 

Without realizing it, Blue had let silence fill the store again. She picked up her math homework and halfheartedly tried to work on it, but in reality she was just keeping an eye out for Gansey. He strolled through the aisles as if he belonged there, and Blue really rather wanted him out before her shift ended. 

In the last ten minutes Blue had, Gansey ended up in the front of the shop again, a stack of books clutched to his chest. “Are you checking out?” Blue asked, mind still floating, and Gansey nodded. 

He let silence drape over the gap between them before bridging it. “Why did… can I ask you again?”

Blue looked at him. He wasn’t particularly striking, standing in the fluorescent light- just another Aglionby boy, like all the other Aglionby boys Blue saw everyday. But he met her gaze and held it, and her heart felt strong and steady and she could almost hear its sound, echoing in her ears and the empty bookstore isles. She hesitated. “...Yes.”

Gansey’s mouth parted, but his eyes remained steady. He grabbed his receipt from her and asked, pointedly, “Well?”

She bit her lip. The noise from outside wasn’t quite reaching inside the shop, but Blue could feel it- feet against cobblestones, friends laughing in the way that was comfortable and assured and like they knew every bit of each other, car tires against the late night road- and it was almost reaching the scene with Gansey. In the office behind her, Blue was sure Eric was still asleep, curled tight in his chair like he had been every other night Blue had worked there. She let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and said, “Yes. Yeah.”

Gansey didn’t smile, but his eyes changed a little in the light. “I- You work with Ronan, right? I can- I can pick you up the night of and… and get you ready.” 

Blue nodded. “I’ll- yes. Yeah.” 

Gansey nodded and grabbed his books. Turning to leave, he said, “And- thank you, Blue.”

To his retreating back, Blue called, “You’re not paying me, though!” She wasn’t sure Gansey heard, but it was enough to make her stay behind the counter for another five minutes after her shift ended. 

\------

The night of the dinner, Noah called Blue. “So,” he started, not even bothering to say hello. “Ronan told me I’ll be seeing you at this reception.”

“Jesus fuck, Noah, say hello first,” Blue said, tripping over a pile of laundry. “And will my mother be at this thing too?” 

“Hmm,” he mused; Blue could tell he was smiling. “Have you seen that new boyfriend of hers? He looks like the type of man to take a girl to a fancy dinner party.” 

Mr. Gray, as if he could feel Noah talking about him, poked his head into Blue’s room to look at her. He mouthed, _You okay?_ and Blue nodded, then felt enormously guilty because she shouldn’t have been gossiping about him with Noah. 

“Yeah, whatever,” she said into the phone, then lay down on her bed. Her ceiling glittered above her, and Blue desperately wished she had never found out about sparkly paint when she was twelve. It was not something she had thought before. “I just… I really shouldn’t have agreed to do this.” 

Noah hummed, then asked brightly, “Remind me again why you did?”

Blue shrugged, not caring Noah couldn’t see it. She rolled onto her side and said, “I… it seemed like a pleasant experience at the time.” 

“Well, it’s not going to be one,” Noah informed her. “Ronan’s wearing a suit, and you know how much he despises those.” 

Blue didn’t, not really. Her only experiences with Ronan and fancy clothes had been a time of great displeasure, as his bird had been nipping her the entire time, and she wasn’t sure a tie, an undershirt and pinstriped trousers counted as ‘fancy clothes.’ (In her defense, it had been a rough day- Noah was unconscious for half of it.)

“Well,” she said finally. “I’m sure it’ll be wonderful, then.” 

Noah huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve gotta go. Gansey’s picking you up, though, right?” 

“Yeah,” Blue managed. “And apparently getting me proper clothing.” Her heart, for some reason, felt like it was beating through her chest. Noah hung up, and Blue curled herself tighter underneath that shiny, glittering ceiling. 

“Blu-uue!” Orla called from downstairs. Blue could imagine her on the kitchen phone, painting her nails or tangling them up in the phone cord. “Your ride is here!”

“Coming!” she called back. Uncurling herself, she sat up, hopped off the bed, and tromped down the stairs, biting her lip. This evening, she hoped, would turn out alright. Hopefully. If the stars aligned and various gods were willing, this night would turn out alright. To her surprise, though, she found not Gansey in the front hall, but someone else- a tall, sleek woman, pretty in professional way, who smiled when she saw Blue. 

“This is Helen,” Orla said, who had emerged from the kitchen to play hostess in the foyer. “She’s your, uh, Gansey’s sister.” 

The woman- Helen- smiled. “My darling brother told me about your, ah, _situation_ , and I decided a lovely young woman like yourself needed a dress. Orla told me your sizes, and I have a few gorgeous numbers in the back that would fit you.” 

Blue wondered if Helen's version of the situation was the truthful one, then tried not to feel overwhelmed. “I, uh. Yes. I may need a dress.”

Helen smiled again and bit her lip. ‘We have a few hours before the reception and your cousin tells me she can do makeup; would you… want to do this stuff here?”

Blue inhaled and nodded. Out of the corner of her she spotted Maura and Mr. Gray poking their heads out of the kitchen, and she didn’t miss the looks they gave her. She didn’t smile back, but her lips came close to curving into one. 

Helen clapped her hands together, her own grin a little sharper. It was odd, imagining Gansey with that sort of expression; his smiles were far less sly. “What do you say we get started?”

Blue didn’t want to remember the next hour or so. She was squeezed into various dresses, some more than once, as assorted members of her family drifted in and out. Even after Helen had settled on a pretty blue dress- “It matches you,” Maura said, running her hand through Blue’s hair, smiling- Orla insisted in working on Blue’s face. 

“I’m not that ugly,” Blue protested, squirming. 

“No,” Orla told her; her breath smelled like oranges and Blue couldn’t concentrate. “That’s why you need so much makeup.” 

“What?!” 

After what felt like years, Helen and Orla stepped back to admire their work, slapping one pale hand against another darker one. Persephone, in the corner, said dreamily, “It looks lovely, Blue,” and Maura seemed emotional. That may have been the alcohol, though; Blue wasn’t sure. 

After trying to stand, and tripping over her hem, Blue looked desperately at Orla and asked, “Can I please wear flats?” Orla shrugged, and the doorbell rang. 

“I’ll get it!” Jimi shouted gaily from somewhere downstairs, and Blue winced at the noise. 

Helen grinned. “I believe,” she started, “that my brother is here.” She grabbed Blue’s elbow, Orla took the other, and together they dragged Blue down the stairs, laughing all the while. Gansey, at the door, stopped dead. 

“You look… different,” he said, eyeing Blue. 

She scowled. “I am well aware.”

“Oh, it’s not bad,” he assured, but he was still looking at Blue in a way she wasn’t sure how to interpret. Gansey bit his lip. “You look fine.” 

“That’s what every girl wants to hear, Dicky,” Helen told him, skipping her way over and twisting an arm around his shoulder. 

Orla grinned and rested her sharp nails on Blue’s shoulder, shoving her towards the Gansey siblings and out the door. “Have fun, kids!” she called, already turning around. “Make good choices!”

“I’ll try!” Gansey called weakly. Blue hoped he just didn’t realize Orla was joking, because otherwise it was a dismal response. 

One of the cars on the curb was bright orange and absolutely hideous. The other was sleek and dark, rather like Helen, and it was the one Blue headed towards. Gansey made a noise in the back of his throat, and Helen said, “We are taking my car, Dick.” Blue slid into the back. It was cool and dark, despite the fading heat, and smelled like leather and pine trees. Blue didn’t know much about cars, but even she could tell this was a good one. It made her feel even more out place, her lack of car knowledge, though the smooth feeling of silk against her legs helped. 

Gansey, huffing, slid in next to her. “My car,” he said, mostly to himself, “Is perfectly fine.” It seemed like something he had to tell himself often. 

“Are you sure?” Blue asked him. He startled. 

“Yes!” 

Blue didn’t smile, but she came close. 

Blue wasn’t sure where Helen was going. The car was taking them far, far out of town, past the fields and the trailers, on a path Blue would call ‘less traveled.’ Gansey didn’t notice; he was far too engaged in staring out the window. His face was alight with Henrietta’s dregs of brightness. It his the edges of his face like it hit the horizon, turning his profile into something much starker and kingly. Blue shivered. 

Helen pulled the car into a dark lot and turned off the engine. “Well, kids,” she said, voice smooth in the sudden quiet, “We’re here.”

Gansey slipped out of the car, easy despite his formal wear, and Blue felt her lips pulling down. She followed him out of the car, stumbling over her hem, and fell into Helen, feeling Gansey’s eyes on the back of her neck. She frowned fully and looked across the field; in the very center, filling up Blue’s eyes, was a plane. She clenched her jaw. “Are we really taking that to D.C?”

Helen nodded, striding across the pavement to the runway. Hopping in, she asked Blue, “Have any other way to get to D.C. in the next hour?” Blue gritted her teeth and made her way to the plane. 

Inside, there was Noah and Adam. “You’re here!” Noah said, smiling up at her. Blue tripped into his lap then slipped, ungainly, over him onto a seat. 

“Yes,” she muttered. “Remind me why?” Adam laughed at that, the noise sounding throaty and surprised. Blue glanced at him in shock, then returned to frowning at Noah. He shrugged. 

A low rumble sounded from outside the lane just as Gansey slipped in. He sighed, shaking his head towards the door, and Adam muttered, “I told him to be here early.” No one seemed to notice. 

Ronan strolled in, hands stuffed in his pockets, smirk in place. Gansey sighed. “Why can’t you ever be early? Or wear a tie properly?” Ronan shrugged. 

Adam went to fix his tie, and Ronan scowled at him. It wasn’t a scowl Blue had ever gotten from Ronan; all of those were sharp and predatory. This frown was one of defense, like the ones Orla gave Blue when she landed to close with her teasing. Blue didn’t much like the look of it on Ronan’s face. It played with his cheekbones and eyes in a way that was too personal, too intimate, for Blue to watch.

Noah glanced at her. “Yeah,” he murmured, which either meant very little or an awful lot. Blue raised an eyebrow at him; he didn’t seem to notice. “Gansey doesn’t like it much either, but I think that’s just because he doesn’t understand it.”

That makes two of us, Blue thought, but cast it out of her mind when the plane’s engine whirled. Gansey motioned for them put on headphones, and Blue scrambled to do so. “Well?” Helen’s voice said. “How do you like my ride?” 

Ronan made a noise, and Noah said mildly, “It’s certainly a plane.” Adam huffed a laugh. 

Helen went silent, and across from Blue Gansey mouthed, _She’s pouting_. Ronan made another noise, this one possibly amusement, and Blue turned to face the window. Outside, it was dark and gray and quiet, a stark contrast to the raven boys. Blue pressed her head against the glass as Noah pressed his shoulder against hers, and they sat quietly in the midst of noise. 

In between Adam leaving to hang in the cockpit and Ronan breaking out the snacks, Blue fell asleep.

\------

The food at the party was, of course, amazing. 

Next to Blue, Noah stuffed half a hors d'oeuvres in his mouth, and she winced at the sight. “Noah,” she whispered fiercely, nudging him. “Mind your manners.”

He smiled sweetly, though the effect was tampered by the chewed up food. “I am minding them. A bit.” 

Gansey swept past them, not minding Noah’s lack of manners, looking completely in his element. At least, the law student Gansey did, the one who was sleek and polished and very upper class. It figured, Blue thought. In her experiences, law students- or any rich people- loved parties. Blue let those thoughts drift through her mind as she tilted her head back, staring at the chandelier. It was gold, reflecting the low lighting straight back into Blue’s eyes, and she winced. Gansey, doubling back, grabbed her elbow. 

“You alright?” he asked, his grip on her arm light and reassuring. Blue nodded. “Good, because I need to introduce you to a ridiculous amount of people.” 

He was right; there were more people crammed into the Gansey family’s ballroom than Blue would have thought possible. Weaving his way through the throngs of people, Gansey smiled and nodded and laughed, law-student-Gansey still rearing its head, and Blue felt ridiculously out of place. When Gansey introduced her to his mother, a lovely woman in blue, she smiled and laughed and shook Blue’s hand, looking very much like her son. Blue didn’t know what to say and spent the whole encounter doing nothing but nodding along to Gansey. When Gansey introduced her to the family lawyer, she shuffled her feet and smiled and felt smaller than she’d ever had before. 

As they walked away from a Mrs. Peterson from South Carolina, Helen caught Blue’s elbow. “Hey,” she whispered to Gansey. “Let me steal her away for a bit?” He hesitated, then nodded. Helen dragged Gansey off into the crowd. “Sorry,” she whispered, this time to Blue. “You looked like you needed to get out of the politicians’ section.” 

She found herself nodding. Helen’s grip, like Gansey’s, was firm and Blue soon found herself being pulled into a crowd of younger people, staring at her in interest. “Who’s this?” one asked. 

“This is Blue,” announced Helen. “She likes- uh…” 

“Biology,” Blue told her. She squared her shoulders. “And fashion.” 

“...Lovely,” Helen said. “Separately, or is it one hobby?” 

“Does it need to be an either/or situation?” an Asian boy said. “Sorry, I’m Henry. Henry Cheng.” He shook her hand, then carried on. “But honestly, if comic book creators are able to combine artwork and writing, why should it be any different in science or design?” 

“Comic books were created for the purpose of entertainment, whereas science is used to further the world,” another boy said thoughtfully. “Can you really compare the two?”

“See, I believe comic books can be used to advance the world, they just have to be used well,” Helen interjected. “If you were reading about, say, socialism instead of superheroes, Carruthers, then maybe you could compare them.” 

Blue did not know what was going on. She fingered the sides of her dress, watching the discussion bounce around like a tennis match in front of her, feeling distinctly like a wildlife photographer trying to catch feral animals in their natural habitat. 

Appearing next to her, Adam whispered, “You just have to make things up.” 

Blue looked at him. “Hmm?” 

He nodded at the people before them, a glass of wine in his hands. “Pretend you know exactly what they’re talking about. You’ll be able to contribute much more to the conversation.” Raising his voice, he said to the group, “Ah, but can you really easily combine two subjects when their audiences are so different? Or would that simply increase the fields’ respective publics?”

Carruthers made a noise in the back of his throat, and Adam grinned at Blue. She cleared her throat and said, haltingly, “Well, wouldn’t the whole point of mixing fields be to change the audiences? To get more people involved? What other reason is there to discover the effects of synthetic fibers on human nerves?” 

Carruthers made another noise. Henry Cheng chuckled and said, “Well, if a person got bored easily…” The group laughed with him, and Adam nudged Blue without looking at her, and she picked up a glass of wine. The topic moved, and Blue flowed with it, and acting like the upper class was surprisingly easy if you know what to say. She felt oddly bubbly, like the champagne Henry Cheng was carrying, and for half a second didn’t regret going to the party.

Gansey tapped her on the shoulder three glasses of wine later. “Helen,” he said, eyes red-rimmed, “It’s late. We should probably be going now.” Helen, draped across a sofa like a flower in spring, surrounded by suitors, nodded. Adam rounded up Ronan from a corner, Noah reappeared, and all five of them trooped back out into the dark, late night. 

“Do you always leave so early?” Blue asked once they returned to the quiet of the plane. Gansey eyed her. 

“When we have school tomorrow, yes,” he told her. “Plus, from what I’ve heard, your mother would kill Noah if you stayed out all night long.” Blue found herself nodding. It struck her as odd that she would agree with Gansey on that, that she was close to laughing at something he said. When they’d first met, she’d found him irritating, she thought, but she drifted off before all those thoughts could fully articulate themselves. 

Ronan woke her when the plane landed, scowling, and told her that Adam and Noah would drive her home. 

Adam’s car was small and gray and loud, and it reminded Blue of Noah in some strange way. Noah himself, bouncing up and down in the passenger’s seat, asked her, “So, how did you like it?” 

Blue considered this. “It was alright.” she said slowly. “For an event thrown by the bourgeoisie, I mean.” 

Adam’s eyes cut towards her as he pulled into traffic, amused. “In today’s society’s context, or Marx’s?” 

“Oh, definitely Marx’s,” Blue assured him. “The Gansey’s aren’t quite... middle class.” Adam laughed.

\-----

Her next day at the coffee shop was a Tuesday- the dreaded afternoon shift. Noah was there, floating around the kitchen, and Ronan had delegated himself to taking orders. Blue settled herself down as part waitress, part drinks mixer, and an hour passes. 

Her peace was interrupted by Gansey flinging the door open and marching up to the counter, looking determined. Adam was at his heels, looking equally amused and nervous. “Blue,” Gansey said. “Can I, uh…” 

“Spill it, Dick,” Ronan drawled from somewhere near Adam, and Noah gave a little laugh. “C’mon!” 

“I, uh… Blue,” Gansey said. “Would you like to go get drinks at some point?”

Blue thought for a second, fiddling with the sugar pot. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose.” 

Gansey’s smile wasn’t relieved, but it certainly wasn’t over-joyed or anything. Blue sighed at it, but inside she was smiling with him, a little, a lot, and Ronan is smiling too, almost nearly barely, a sliver of a smile. Adam is whispering something in his ear, low and quiet, and Noah’s laugh sounds like butter-yellow sunlight on lemony walls and Blue is, inexplicably, happy.

**Author's Note:**

> i should go to the library now. and learn to write. 
> 
> you should leave me in my shame. or comment. or listen to some good ol' 2006 angry rock music to feed your inner twelve year old. 
> 
> I'm going to the library now.


End file.
